


Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe

by luckbringer



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Explanations, Gen, Missing Scene, Original Character(s), Pete's World, Pete's World Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckbringer/pseuds/luckbringer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler has been trapped in the wrong universe for over a year, with no luck on finding a way home. And then a stranger appears with the Doctor's face, and, well, it all goes downhill from there. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Today marks my one-year anniversary of writing for this website! Just…wow. Thank you to all you beautiful writers and readers out there who've encouraged me through views, comments and favorites, and to the works and authors who have inspired me since the beginning. And who could forget to mention "Doctor Who" and all its respective writers, actors, etc.? For without them, and confused-cariad's influence, I would never have discovered the Doctor's world and the freedom writing Fanfiction provides. So without further ado, let's dive back into Pete's World! For this fic I am ignoring the mysterious rule that there was only ever one version of the Doctor in all the universes.

She supposed she should have gotten used to the zeppelins by now. A whole year of the same, disappointing view, day in and day out. Even at night they filled the black sky with their bulk, their engines creating a low thrum that lingered at the edge of her hearing. On holidays, the owners celebrated by switching their air ship's lights on for the entire night, creating their own unique constellations.

But they weren't the stars Rose wanted to see. They blocked out the universe, which, parallel or no, still held billions of stars, galaxies, and planets that she yearned to see and touch and feel. A year ago, that would have been a hop in a time-and-space ship away. No longer.

Rose blinked hard and wiped at her cheeks furiously, scowling at the cosmetics that came off on her fingers as she did so. She was sitting on the side of a grassy knoll, stretching her legs after her afternoon run through Earl Park, this universe's name for Hyde Park. Rose hadn't planned on running her route today, usually saving it for the weekend. But her random urges to make a mad dash for a distant point on the horizon had the potential to appear at any time of the day. As such she'd made it a habit to carry running shorts and a t-shirt in her car at all times.

Such was the case today, when Rose left the Torchwood office for a bit of fresh air, barely realizing that she'd changed into her running outfit before she'd left the premise. Standing there on the corner of a city block, traffic weaving around her, Rose needed more than just a break. She needed space, the kind of space and freedom only running could provide.

She'd stopped trying to keep track of where she was going, choosing to focus more on the feeling of sprinting though the streets of parallel-London. If she ignored the zeppelins and the unfamiliar advertisements and shops long enough, Rose could almost imagine herself back home, in her own London, where she belonged. Behind her was a Slitheen, or an Ood with red eyes, or even a working Dalek, and she had to outrun it. Ahead of her was the TARDIS and the stars, next stop, everywhere…

She'd feel his hand grip hers with a familiar, reassuring strength…

And a nearby car would honk in protest. She'd try not to curse the driver too much, seeing as it was her fault for stepping into the street without looking, and continue on her way. She wouldn't feel his hand again.

Rose finally stopped to gather some air, and her emotions, on the edge of the parallel-version of the famous park. And as she sat on the grass, pulling out individual blades and idly stripping them apart, she smiled. No one gave her pitying glances every time certain key words and phrases were mentioned. No one whispered about her in the break room, debating whether or not she originated from a parallel world. Everyone was their own person. They may look, sound, and act different, but one thing connected the boy on the scooter, the old couple on the park bench, and the jogger running alongside her dog together: none of them gave a damn about who she was.

Of course, not having anyone to talk to about one's problems was certainly a drawback of its own, the zeppelins being a reminder of that very fact.

Rose wiped her tears away more furiously. She knew she was trapped, but she'd decided a month after Bad Wolf Bay that she was not going to take this sitting down. Being the damsel in distress may work for picture books and Disney films, but life with the Doctor taught her that the universe didn't suffer fools and day-dreamers lightly. If she wanted her Doctor back, if she wanted to hear how that damn sentence was going to end, Rose would have to find a way to get back to him herself, even if that meant risking the existence of both universes to do so.

But the problem, the big issue that refused to solve itself, was how to accomplish her goal. The Doctor had said that travel between universes was impossible, unless he (a) let both universes collapse or (b) attempted to cross without caring whether the TARDIS would survive the journey, both of which the Time Lord would never dream of doing. And though Rose wanted to prove him wrong more than anything, Torchwood technology confirmed his words: there was simply no way to cross the void between the universes safely. She'd searched for holes in the fabric of space and time to use as make-shift bridges, but they were too small and powerless. Even the ones that just might be big enough for the smallest transport weren't stable, and deemed too unsafe for interdimensional travel. The conclusion was like a slap to the face: more than ten months of working with this universe's version of Torchwood, and they had nothing to show for it except for a paper stack full of pencil scratches and dead-ends.

Mickey tried to cheer her up, but Rose didn't want to see more of his hopeful grin, one of the main reasons she'd chosen to take her break outside instead of in the office. The irony of the situation tasted bitter on her tongue. Usually it was her that jumped into projects with enthusiasm, instead of moping behind a steel desk all day and listening in vain to radio transmissions taking place in space, in case she happened to hear his voice again.

Rose closed her eyes and imagined her Doctor in her mind's eye, picturing him as if were right in front of her. Brown, really great hair tousled in just the right way, as if he'd just come back from tinkering under the TARDIS. Deep brown eyes that pierced her soul, with one eye tilted ever so slightly, and one ear raised just a fraction. A smile that lit up his whole face and made him seem far younger than he actually was. There was the striped brown suit, a perfect fit, the long brown coat billowing out behind him like a cape, and white trainers worn out from hours of running for his life. There he was, standing before her like the gorgeous, brilliant, mysterious, fantastic, 900-year-old Time Lord she knew him to be. If she could only reach out and touch him…

So caught up with her mental image, Rose didn't hear the man approach behind her. She only spun around when he said, "Something wrong, blondie?"

She froze. No, it couldn't be. She must be hearing things, her imagination running wild with desperation.

Then he spoke again. "You're hearing alright, yeah?"

Without another hesitation, Rose leapt to her feet and spun around, arms ready to—

It was him. But, at the same time, it wasn't him. Standing in front of her was the Doctor, yes, but he looked…different. And as Rose continued to stare, the changes became more pronounced. He still had brown hair, but now it was flat, folding over itself like any other human businessman. Instead of a brown suit, the man wore a grey coat and trousers, with shiny black shoes identical to the ones the office workers wore. His tie was the only hint of true color: a bold, loud, red color in place of the calmer blues and maroons of his counterpart.

He was the Doctor, and yet, he most certainly was not the Time Lord she knew and loved. The frown he wore was too impersonal, and the glint in his dark brown eyes was noticeably absent. The only thing they shared was the voice.

"You done staring?" the almost-Doctor asked her. Scratch that, this man's voice was nothing like the Doctor's, lacking all the warmth and compassion that made her Time Lord so charismatic.

Rose shook herself out of her surprise and glared at him instead, trying very hard to ignore how this man and the Doctor shared the same sharp cheekbones and finely-sculpted sideburns. "Who are you?"

The man raised an eyebrow, and she bit back a whimper. Focus, Rose chided herself. "Ho, ho, being a little demanding, aren't we?" he answered. "Besides, you know who I am already. Don't need me to prove anything."

She retained her mask. "I'll ask again: who are you?"

"I don't need to answer that! All you Torchwood rats know me, or at least my name if not the face." The man waggled his eyebrows, but the feeling it emitted was sickening rather than playful. "Tends to change a lot, you know."

"How'd you know I work for Torchwood?" Rose asked pointedly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion and her feet already poised to run. This was a bad time to be armed with nothing, not even a toy water pistol.

He shrugged and ignored her defensive stance, choosing to retain a business-casual front. "Saw you run from the tower. Thought I would find out what a pretty blond like you is doing all on her own. And, perhaps, what she's running from."

"I'm not running from anything."

"Not from, then. How about towards something, hmm?" She saw his tongue lick the underside of his mouth. "Is that it? Are you running to something?"

"Stop it," Rose snapped, though with a bit less fire than before. He was imitating the Doctor so well, even unknowingly, it was painful for her to watch.

He didn't even pause in his attempt at deduction. "Or perhaps someone?"

"I said stop it!" She gave him the best Jackie Tyler glare she could manage, and was pleased at how fast it shut his gob. Rose crossed her arms and rested on her back ankle, giving him her own version of casual conversation. "You mentioned that you can change your face? Are you a Time Lord?"

For the first time, the man appeared confused. "A what?"

"A Time Lord. An alien? Not human?"

"Well, I am an alien, yes, just not a…whatever you called me."

"Oh." Well, that certainly narrowed down her options considerably. "Then what species are you?"

"Classified," he answered with a grin, taking a moment to rock back and forth on his heels. "Look up my name on the Torchwood files and you'll have your answer, my little Torchwood mouse."

Rose breathed evenly through her nose and willed herself to calm down. She could take insults from anyone or anything in the universe, but not from someone who looked and sounded so much like him. "First of all, I am not your 'mouse'. I am not 'yours' in any sense of the word."

The alien man's lips twitched but he let her continue.

"And second, I propose a trade. Your name for mine. Sound fair?"

He laughed out loud, a sound that was so harsh and bark-like it grated on Rose's ears. "I don't usually make deals with humans," he scoffed, "but you're pretty enough that I'll make an exception."

Rose glared at him, but did not comment. The real Doctor, her Doctor, appreciated almost every species equally, and never made her feel inferior or worthless because she was a human. This universe's version of him clearly did not share those views.

Because that's exactly who this man was. In theory, every universe contained a different version of a person, a copy that was just slightly off in their appearance, manner, or how they chose to live their life. Jackie was motherly and poor in one, and stuck-up and rich in another. Pete was dead and, in this universe, alive. Mickey and Rickey went opposite directions on the aggression scale, and Rose discovered her doppelganger was a terrier. She'd first thought that the Doctor had said something about it being impossible for multiple versions of a Time Lord to exist, but he'd been wrong again. Here was the Doctor's other half: business-like and perhaps a different species, but just as rude as the original.

The man adjusted his tie and stuck out his chin. "I," he proclaimed, "am the Executor."

He paused, gazing down at her dramatically. No doubt he was expecting her to bow down to him, or quiver in fear, or even give him a good gasp of surprise.

But Rose, a human born a universe away, just raised her eyebrow at him. "That's it?" she asked.

The man, the "Executor", lowered his hands and chin and frowned. "What's it?"

"That. You're the…Executor." She chuckled despite of the situation. "What's that mean, then? You'll help pay my expenses after I'm dead?"

"What?!" he shouted, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. He was so shocked, so affronted that she'd taken it in such a manner, Rose couldn't stop the next fit of giggles.

"Oh my god, the Executor! Really, that was the best you could come up with?" she said between gasps for air, before doubling over in laughter at his bewildered expression. "Not, 'the Boss' or 'the Warrior' or 'the Supreme Lord of all Creation'. No, no, best call myself 'the Executor' and let my enemies know how dependable I am with a will!"

"Shut it, human!" the Executor snapped as soon as he could close his jaw. When that didn't work on her, he thundered, "I said ENOUGH!"

Rose quickly sobered. She didn't stop laughing because she remembered how powerful any species like the Time Lords could be. It wasn't even due to his words or infliction. No, it was because of the fact that a man with his face and voice had shouted at her, had commanded her to stand down, that she became calm and collected once more. No one, especially the Doctor, no matter what version he was, was allowed to tell Rose Tyler to shut up. "Watch it, Executor," Rose bit back at him, "or I'll call in my 'rats' to come and have a little chat with you."

It was a bluff, of course. She had no phone or communicator, no one who knew where she went after she left the Torchwood tower. But the Executor, whether he noticed her lie or not, merely shrugged and returned to his casual pose. "I was only going to ask you what your name was."

She blinked once at him before replying. "It's Rose."

"Do I get a last name, Rosebud?"

"No." God, her name sounded terrible when he said it like that. She needed to hear her mum or Jack Harkness or the Doctor say her name a couple of times just to get that sound out of her head.

"Shame." The Executor glared at her shoes for a moment, before his eyes came back up to meet hers. "I like your fire, Rosebud. Care to take a ride in my ship? Bet you haven't seen anything like it."

He liked her fire, did he? Well, he better get ready, cause he was about to get scorched. "I don't know," Rose answered, confidence in her voice despite the chance that what she would say would be false in this universe. "Does it happened to be called a TARDIS, standing for 'Time and Relative Dimension in Space'? Shaped like a blue police box, but, don't tell me, it's bigger on the inside. It's powered with a central Time Rotor that goes up and down, inside theme is coral, and if anyone looked into the Heart of the TARDIS they would combust, get their wish granted, or turn into the most powerful being of all creation. That's me by the way, hello." She grinned at him, with her tongue poking out of her teeth in that way she knew made the other him crazy. "Oh, and I happen to know that although you are not a 'Time Lord' you are alien. Your entire planet was destroyed, along with two species, yours and your enemy's, the Daleks. Course, some of them survived, but we won't go into that right now. You have two hearts, your internal body temperature is lower than mine, you have 'superior Time Lord biology' and use it as an excuse for everything, you have a respitory bypass system, and your face changes through a process called regeneration."

Rose sucked in air after having expelled so much information in one go, and beamed at the Executor's dumbfounded expression. Oh, she hadn't had this much fun in months!

"That…um," the alien man mumbled, his hand reaching up to tug on his tie. So close to his ear and yet so far. "Well, you're right. Sort of. In a way. Almost."

She rolled her eyes. "Figured as much. So, how'd I do? At least half right, yeah?"

The Executor made a whining noise through his teeth and nodded his head back and forth. "I suppose you could say that, though how you're able to say so much of that confidently, whether it's actually correct or not, tells me that somewhere all that you said is true." He smiled like a sick man who knew he was about to say something bad but unashamedly apologized early. "You humans don't have enough imagination for all that."

"Thanks," Rose muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. "What'd I get wrong?"

The Executor sighed heavily, clearly disappointed at not having the chance to amaze her. "You're correct in that I travel across time and space for kicks, congrats on that one. My ship is bigger on the inside, but I call it 'Sal', not 'Tetris' or whatever you said."

"Sal? You don't mean Hal, do you?"

"Who's Hal?"

"Never mind." She shook her head and tried not to groan. Her Doctor would never have passed up the opportunity to make a 2001: Space Odyssey reference. "Continue."

He eyed her, but didn't comment on it further. "The inside looks like any standard time-and-space ship common to the Pie-Gamma-Pear-16 century, but on the outside it only looks like a harmless red telephone box." He frowned. "Way back it had a system that let it change its outside shame to fit the location and time period, but one day it suddenly burst into flames. No prodding from me, just, whoosh."

Rose nodded in a professional manner, but her imagination was doing cartwheels. The Doctor had mentioned once or twice about his chameleon circuit giving out centuries ago with little to no explanation. He'd blamed the TARDIS, thinking She didn't want to change her appearance on a whim anymore, but maybe one of the parallel versions of himself was the culprit. "Uh-huh. Go on."

"The whole 'Heart of the Tetris' thing sounds a little weird, so I won't linger too much on that detail. I'm not going to confirm or deny anything about my history for…other reasons. You know my biology very well, which kind of disturbs me, to be honest, and yeah, regeneration is a centuries-old problem. I believe that's everything?"

"Not quite." Rose felt much more relaxed around this alien man than before, but she retained her wariness for her final question. "What's your species?"

The Executor glanced away, displaying the first hint of her Doctor's broodiness in the entire conversation. "I didn't tell you my species because I don't have one. Not officially, anyway." He turned back to her, expecting her to be surprised or angry. Rose was unresponsive, and he continued without being asked. "A long, long time ago, I appeared on a planet called Yestermogen 3. Poof, there I was. Fully grown, but with a very different face than the one I wear now. I still remember that day: opening my eyes to find a whole new world before me, but what was so new about it I couldn't remember. I knew how to function, my name, and how to pilot the ship beside me. Even knew the ship's name, Sal. But it's been 900 years now and I have yet to discover my origins."

"900 years…" Rose murmured. "You're not just traveling, are you?" She lowered her head a little so she could meet his eyes, now filled with a very familiar storm of emotions. "You're looking for someone. You're trying to find yourself, and where you came from."

He met her gaze without flinching. "I'm looking for answers. Not all of those answers answer the same question. But, if the energy around you is any indication, you might be able to help me with my search."

Rose blinked in surprise. "Excuse me? What energy?"

Without even blinking the Executor returned to his original stance and pivoted on his expensive heels. "Come on!" he called over his shoulder, already striding away.

"Where d'you think you're going?"

"Does it matter? You'll follow!"

She cursed his innate ability to read her so well. It probably wasn't smart to further entangle herself with this alien. She had no back up, and by the way he carried himself he was probably on Torchwood's "Most Wanted" list. But he was the parallel version of the Doctor! Could his version of the TARDIS make the crossing? A plan was already forming in her head for how to best word her request.

Without hesitation, Rose followed.

*/*/*/*

The Executor led her around the perimeter of Earl Park, his hands eventually finding their way into his business suit pockets. Rose trailed along diagonal him, retaining her individual space but at the same time forming a tentative sphere of companionship around them. No one gave them a second glance, despite him being in a suit fit for a professional office and her dressed in running shorts.

They turned a corner, and right in front of her was something Rose had missed entirely on her run here: a red phone box as large as the TARDIS Herself. At first it looked like any old phone box, with rows of square windows and a single telephone inside, but the closer they approached the more "off" the box became. Its windows were bent in such a way that they reflected light so well, it looked like she was looking through the object, when in fact she was just viewing the reflection from the other side. The phone was probably just an illusion. If Rose squinted hard enough she could look past the mirrors and see the solid sheet of red metal that lay beneath.

"Nice ship," she told him. When he turned to look at her, she added, "Bigger on the inside, yeah?"

"Remind me to ask you why you know so much," he muttered. With a wide swing of his arm, the Executor opened the door and entered, letting Rose follow behind him.

"Welcome to Sal!" he proclaimed. Rose's jaw dropped. It was huge! Not just bigger-on-the-inside huge, but proper. Huge. A solitary time rotor was in the center, but it was surrounded by an expansive layout of steel, chrome, and futuristic metals. No corral here to remind her of home; the intimate space in the Doctor's TARDIS was nothing compared to this. "Sal" stretched right and left indefinitely, curving at the ends as if it went on forever. Knowing bigger-on-the-inside ships, it probably did. The walls were so spotless they reflected almost everything, making the room seem even bigger than it already was. And the controls weren't just around the time rotor. Different tables of buttons, displays, and wires were on Rose's right and left side.

But what amazed Rose the most were the people. It wasn't just a lone alien flying through space anymore. In its place was a whole crew, men and women who walked around Sal's control room with some business or other. Some wore suits similar to the Executor's, others had on outfits from various time periods, both futuristic and historic. One or two even looked alien.

"It's very…Spock," Rose finally said. As soon as she said it, she knew it was a perfect analogy. The inside of Sal looked very similar to the Starship Enterprise.

The Executor frowned in confusion, but ignored her words and said, "You're from a parallel world." It was a direct statement, not a question.

Rose looked at him. She could lie and say his time-and-space senses were wrong. She could easily blame it on being exposed to Torchwood and its operations. But then again, in order for her to have a chance with this alien, she needed him to trust him. That meant no lying, on either side.

"Yes," she answered. He opened his mouth to question her further, but Rose spoke over him. "I was trapped here when the Cybermen and the Daleks crossed dimensions. My friend and I saved the two universes, but…"

"Ah." The Executor nodded, frowning. A crewman approached him with a clipboard, but the alien man waved him off like a king would to a servant. "Why do you say it's impossible?"

"Because it is." Rose flickered a strand of hair out of her eyes. She could feel her heart strain against digging up past pain, but this was the only sure-fire way to get him to comply. "I've been working at Torchwood for almost a year now and we haven't found anything. No crack that's big or stable enough to allow a safe crossing." She looked away from him and his questioning eyes that were so much like her Doctor it hurt. "And I know because he said it. My friend."

The Executor waited until her eyes were on him again before asking, "Who was your friend?"

She lifted her chin. "His name was the Doctor. Basically, he's the parallel version of you."

"Is he?" The alien man nodded, but his face didn't betray his emotions. "Figures I'd have another version of me." He flicked a speck of dirt off his suit. "Course, he's not very smart, is he? Cause old Sal here can take you across just fine."

Rose's heart must have stopped. That or she ceased breathing altogether. "You…you can? You can take me back?"

"Well, I could…" The Executor made his syllables drawl and scratched the underside of his chin. "Yeah, I could take you over there. Piece of cake. But, I won't do it for free."

He was talking so slowly, Rose was ready to scratch out his eyes with her nails, whether he had the face of her beloved or not. But she took calming breaths, forcing her mind to ease up on the aggressive thoughts and think of her Doctor. "Course you do. What is it? Money? Parallel world energy? Rights to the Earth? I've got the head of the Torchwood organization on speed dial, we could set something up."

"While I'm impressed with your connections, no, I'm not looking for any of that. Too easy to get that stuff on my own." He met her gaze evenly, before turning and calling out, "Patricia!"

Who? Rose looked over his shoulder and watched a beautiful young woman walk over to them. Her white-blond hair cascaded over her shoulders in gentle waves, and she wore a short, navy-blue dress that hugged her curves and thighs. Coupled with the matching high heels, she was the perfect model of the proper way to wear business attire. And she was gorgeous. Of course she was. With Rose in running shorts and trashed sneakers, how could she be anything else?

"Yes, Executor?" she asked sweetly, winding her arm around the alien man's waist. A man who looked almost identical to her Doctor, with his arm around some woman who was no doubt better than her in more than just beauty…the sight of the pair filled Rose with jealousy.

"This is Patricia," the Executor explained, as if an introduction was necessary. God, he even looked at her like she was the center of the universe. How many times had Rose imagined that look directed at her?

The woman, not sensing Rose's inner turmoil, smiled and held out her perfectly manicured hand. "Hello."

"I'm Rose," she answered. She didn't linger on the hand shake.

The alien gave one last smile to his love (how could Patricia be anything else to him?) before turning back to Rose. "Patricia has been my first mate, my companion across the stars, for several year now." He raised an eyebrow at her. "I take it you were such a person to this 'Doctor' of yours?"

Rose was frozen still as she tersely replied, "Guess you could say that, yeah." Another in a long line of companions, most all of them female. Only a mere companion because he refused to take it any farther. If the universe was kind, we'd have several decades of running by now. But these were just thoughts in her head, and voicing them would only confuse the couple in front of her. Or worse, they might take pity on her.

She shook herself out of her morose thoughts. "What do you need me for, Executor?"

"Straight to the point! My kind of girl!" he crowed, slipping from Patricia's grip to dance around the console. The rest of the crew took no notice of his antics as they settled into various chairs across the room and prepared for flight, or whatever the Executor had planned. Patricia glided to a metal rail that ran beside the controls, a pleasant smile on her face that revealed nothing at all about her personality.

Rose was the only one fighting back tears, because with that amount of gleeful exuberance, how could she not remember her Doctor doing the exact same thing?

He clapped his hands together and turned back to her without hitting a single button. "Patricia is human, like you, and like you she's vulnerable to all the diseases that exist in all of time and space. A concept I'm sure you're familiar with."

"Course I am. The TARDIS came with its own kind of shielding, and if we ever came across trouble, the Doctor always had something in the med bay that could help."

"A med bay," he repeated, nodding. "That could come in handy. Will have to remember to ask Sal for one someday."

Rose stared at him in shock. "What? You don't have a med bay? On a ship that could land in World War I trenches as easily as it could land in 51st century Hawaii?"

"I never thought about it!" the Executor snapped defensively. He breathed heavily, and when he regained his composure he continued. "There is one disease, however, that I cannot cure, even in my beloved Patricia's case."

Rose knew what he was going to say even before he said… "Old age."

She tried not to roll her eyes, she really did. But how could she not? How many species were there in the universe, either universes, who couldn't just accept death as a natural progression of life? That without death, life would have no meaning? It's true, sometimes the universe wasn't fair with death, as evidenced by the fate of the original version of Rose's father. But this Executor traveled across the stars. Surely he could see that trying to prevent the inevitable was a mistake.

Then Rose remembered the Doctor, and how he reacted every time their mismatched life spans were mentioned. If offered the choice, would her Doctor overstep the laws of nature just to keep Rose with him a little longer? The answer would be yes, obviously.

Would that be her answer, if Rose was the one offered a choice to die or live for centuries?

The Executor had been looking at Patricia with uncontainable longing, but not he turned back to Rose. "You see, void stuff, the particles that attach themselves to a living receptacle once the organism has crossed dimensions, are not just little dust clouds. In each spec lies the tiniest shred of time. A millisecond, which in itself holds every millisecond in all of history. They're like, um, like tiny shreds of the time vortex, and in each of these shreds is the entire time vortex." His eyebrows drew together. "That sounded better in my head. The point, though, and I do have a point, is that if you were somehow able to capture all the particles on a single organism, and then harness their energy into another living creature, that creature would be able to live for years, decades, even centuries longer than they were before. Good thing I have the technology to do just that. All I need is some void stuff, and we're done. Muy bien! Bravisimo!"

Rose felt light-headed from this overload of information, but she shook her head and focused back on the Executor. "Sounds like a good plan to me. What's stopping you?"

"The particles have to originate in a different universe. And since you're from a parallel world…" He nodded to her like a polite school teacher. "Oh, and in case you're wondering, it can't be me that gives Patricia particles because I'm not human. Not compatible, you could say."

She almost wanted to agree to his plan. Almost. But something in the air wasn't settling right with Rose, and there was an almost hidden shadow to the pair's eyes. "There's something else, isn't there?" she asked him. "What aren't you telling me?"

The Executor looked like he was on the verge of lying to her, but at the last second, the truth came out. "The process is painful. Extremely so, to the point of perhaps killing you. And even if you do survive, the machine will have stripped you bare of all void stuff, including your capacity to acquire more."

His eyes burned holes in her soul. "If I do this to you, you will never be able to cross universes. Not ever again."

"No!" Rose shouted. This man was insane! Give up her only chance on getting back to the Doctor? Was he thick?

Patricia's eyes started brimming with tears, but Rose stood firm in her decision. "I'm sorry, Patricia, but no! I won't—I can't give up my only chance to get back to him."

"A shame." The Executor's eyes turned dark all at once, and suddenly he was fully in his Oncoming Storm mode. He stared her down. "I'm not having Patricia die on me."

"We're human, we'll die eventually. You can't change fixed points."

"I can and I will!" he thundered. His voice became a sneer. "Your Doctor, he's like me, yeah? How old is he, hm? A lot older than you I expect."

"Stop it."

"And likely to watch you die, I'll bet. Wonder if he'll hold your hand—"

"I said STOP!" Rose shouted, unaware that for the briefest of moments her eyes had glowed golden. The thought, The Bad Wolf must return to Time's Thief ran through her head from an unknown source, but it was gone before she could retain it.

The Executor stared at her in shock, Rose's golden eyes shocking him down to his dual hearts. But he shook his head vehemently. "I need your void particles. And you leave me no choice."

Rose took a step away from his threatening words and posture. The door was behind her, and if she managed to step away slowly she was retreating out of fear. "Watch it, Executor," she replied with a warning tone. "I've got a Torchwood team ready and waiting, so keep your machines to yourself."

"She lies," Patricia suddenly said from the sidelines. Rose glanced at her and noticed how distant her eyes were. "She has no Torchwood team. She has no one. Rose Tyler has no one. She is alone."

The words struck a painful chord, because in this universe, they were absolutely true.

The Executor grinned and looked to his lover. "Thank you, dear." He turned back to her with an evil glint in his eyes. "Oh, didn't I mention? Her mind's more attuned to people's minds than most." His grin was absolutely demonic. "Game over, Rosebud Tyler."

Rose flinched as a huge machine suddenly descended from the ceiling. It looked like a sphere with a whole assortment of sharp objects and probes, but what was pointed at her was a large tube, similar to a vacuum. Something told her it wasn't on its "blow" setting.

The machine began to tremble with energy, and Rose bit her lip. Nowhere to run, no one to go to. The Doctor's doppelganger would look on as she was sucked dry, and perhaps killed, just so his beautiful lover could live a little longer. If this process didn't kill her, the irony certainly would. She would never see the Doctor again, or if she did, she wouldn't be able to cross back to the other dimension with him. She'd be stuck here, with zeppelins in the sky and a living da and Torchwood, and all because of this stupid machine that dangled from the ceiling…

And couldn't move…

The answer was so obvious she kicked herself for not realizing it sooner.

"Yeah, big machine. Right scary, that is." Rose said. "But you know what else is scary?"

The Executor had his arm around Patricia, but he spared a glance for her last words. "What?"

"The power of doors." And with that, Rose dashed outside Sal's doors seconds before the machine was powered to maximum.

Rose jumped to the other side of the red telephone box, her breaths coming out quicker than they had after her afternoon run. It was strange, being in the semi-normal world again. The sun was shining, people were milling around Earl Park, and no one, not one single person, questioned why she had gone in a small, cramped telephone box with another man and seemingly disappeared behind the glass.

She would have described the scene as peaceful, had the Executor not barreled around the corner. "Not fair!" he shouted, but out here, his tone sounded whiny instead of powerful. Funny what a change of scene could do. "Please, Rose, I need her. She could die any second. I can't let her slip through my fingers."

"How do you think I feel about the Doctor? Or how the Doctor feels about me?" she asked him. When she turned to look at him, his eyes were focused on the red box behind her. "We need each other, just like you need Patricia, and she needs you. If you're so worried about counting seconds, than make the seconds count. Treat every moment like it could be your last glimpse of her." She glanced at the sky above, imagining a blue sky without massive flying machines. "Because if, and when, you do lose them, you don't want to have any regrets."

Rose looked back up at the Executor and sighed. "I wish I could help you but I can't. I need to find my Doctor, in the other universe. We made a promise to each other. And…he's got to finish that sentence of his."

The Executor was silent for a moment, and Rose thought he was going to leave. Then, softly, "Do you have regrets?"

How could she deny it? "Yes. Some of them minor, others bigger than the universe, but all of them avoidable."

"Do you regret meeting him?"

Rose stared at the semi-Time Lord in front of her. He didn't meet her eyes, but then again, he didn't have to. She'd looked at that face for at least two years and knew how to read it better than the back of her hand. The answer to his question was simple. "Never."

The Executor nodded stiffly, and once more he straightened, as if preparing to leave. Instead he reached into his pocket (no doubt bigger on the inside) and pulled out a stack of blue graph paper. Blue prints, she realized.

"You're…persistence on finding your Doctor is something to behold." He held the stack out to her. "Here. Perhaps your determination can help me find a different solution for Patricia's problem. Or maybe just a different perspective."

Rose gathered them into her arms and immediately felt their bulk, as if they were weighed down by the information they held. Or maybe the paper itself was bigger on the inside, there was no telling. "What is it?"

"The Doctor said travel between universes was impossible? Pah! Not so, Rosebud." He tapped his finger on the pages. "This will help you out. And when you find my twin, make sure to give his head a good smack for me." He shook his head. "Impossible. Ha! He travels through time and space in a blue police box. He has no right to judge the universe."

Rose laughed and gave him a grin, despite her lingering wariness from what nearly happened in Sal. "Thank you," she murmured.

She looked down to flip through the pages and readjust her hold on them. When she looked up again, the Executor was gone. And moments later, Sal vanished as well.

Rose couldn't help but notice that Sal left without a sound.

Back at Torchwood, after she'd appeased a worried Mickey and a furious father ("Your tracking signal vanished! We'd thought you'd gotten kidnapped!" "I'm fine, really!"), Rose set her heavy load on her desk. She opened to the first page…

And barely read two lines before she had to sit down. Hard.

Not two hours later, Rose Tyler, defender of the earth, entered an emergency meeting she'd called to order and lugged the blue prints to the center of the meeting table. On the white board, under the word, "Agenda", she wrote two words:

Dimensional Cannon


End file.
